Monster
by MikaylaMakoola
Summary: "I was a KID, Mal! You stole my childhood, and there was nothing I could do about it!" This is the story of a thirteen year old Mike, dealing with the monsters inside of him. This is the story of his agony, of his depression. This is the story of how he came to be who he is now. This is the story... of Mal. (Rated T for violence.)
1. Chapter 1

_ I used to be such a happy-go-lucky person. I was always smiling, always laughing. Everybody liked me, and I liked everybody. It was almost obnoxious, looking back on it. But it was so blissful, so cheerful. I was living in my own perfect little world._

_ Now I'm the anti-social freak. I hide in the corner, the hood on my black sweatshirt covering my face. I no longer bother with talking to people. Being popular doesn't matter anymore. Not much does. Not much except keeping me on the outside, and it on the inside. I have to stay in control. That's all I care about anymore. My dad is starting to worry about me, more than usual, and I'm afraid he's going to send me back. I don't want to go back. I'm not crazy. He can't lock me up like I am. I won't let him._

_ But slowly, I'm being driving insane. My dad is trying to get me involved in activities. He signs me up for everything. Basketball, softball, the debate team, the chess team, National Honor Society, everything. I never show up to meetings, though. Clubs have began ignoring my name. It's better that way._

_ But I know that by closing myself off from everyone and everything else, I'm letting it win. How... how do I stop it? Can it be stopped? I worry almost constantly that the answer might be no. It's the worst out of all of them. I can predict the others. I can stop the others. I'm not terrified of the others._

_ This doesn't make any sense, does it? I'm afraid that's because I don't make sense anymore. But I'll try my best to explain. My name is Michael Matthew Marks and I have a condition. No... a curse. Indescribably awful. Worse than anything you could ever imagine. The doctors call it MPD. I hate that. It's so much worse than three stupid letters. I don't care what they stand for. This is not some disease. This is agonizing. This is a plague of the mind. There is no cure. There are five of them. Five "personalities" besides myself. They have names, but I refuse to use them. They're not people. They're demons. My mom always thought so anyway. When I was little, she had me undergo a exorcism. It worked for a little while. But they came back. And too bad for me, the church no longer performs exorcisms. They tell me my issues are mental, not spiritual. But still, I pray about them every night. I know that in time, they will go away. God will save me. I find myself in the church a lot. That's mostly because it hates the church. It prefers prison._

_ I wake up in prison occasionally. That's a sure-fire sign that it's been in control. That, and my dad refusing to speak to me, my friends becoming terrified of me, and, this one is the worst, people I love turning up missing, only to be found dead weeks later._

_ That's what happened to my mom._

_ I know that it killed her. And since it is part of me...I haven't been able to look anyone in the eye since. Maybe they should lock me up. I don't even know anymore. I just... I want my sanity back. I want my life back._

I set the small book down. As much as writing about my problem made me feel less alone, I knew that in the long-run it did no good. It wouldn't make them leave. I sighed, a distinct aura of hopelessness settling over me. I walked over to my dresser and took off my hoodie. Looking down at the teal t-shirt I wore underneath, I bit my lip. I'd been wearing this same shirt for nearly a week, but I didn't want to take it off. Taking off my shirt triggered the second-worst demon. This one called itself Vito. It was vain, and spent a lot of time in front of the mirror. It was rude, and after it was gone, I always found myself at the beach. I was normally talking to some scantily-clad, spray-tanned girl. They always looked shocked to see me come to. I'm a lot different than... Vito. None of those girls are very fond of me.

Luckily, that demon was easy to control. It was actually fairly harmless, because it wasn't very smart. If I locked the bedroom door and the windows, it wouldn't be able to figure out how to unlock them. Unfortunately, the lock on my door was broken... which meant I would have to get my dad to catch and put a shirt on Vito before he went out the front door.

Great.

Reluctantly, I went downstairs, a clean shirt in hand. My dad stood at the griddle, making what appeared to be pancakes. I swallowed and fixed my gaze on the ground. "Hey dad..." I muttered, loud enough so he could hear me.

He turned and flashed me what was probably a forced smile. "Hey Mike! You want a pancake?"

"No thanks..." I shook my head, not meeting his gaze. "Could you... could you do me a favor?"

My dad nodded cheerily. He always acted super happy around me, as if he wasn't scared of what was within me. "Sure, bud, what you need?"

"Dad, I have to change my shirt." That was all I needed to say.

My dad had me figured out by now. He was a expert at handling all but one of the demons. He nodded again, never losing his grin. "'Course! Go ahead, Mike."

I took a deep breath and faced away from him. With my hands shaking, I tugged off my shirt. Suddenly, I heard myself gasp and everything went dark.

Normally, it would stay that way. But every now and then, I would instead be transported into my own mind. This rarely happened, and every time it did, it was because one of them was trying to talk to me. I kept my eyes squeezed tightly shut, though I could hear them around me. I shook my head desperately. They were murmuring something. Vito's voice was noticeably not present, so he was still on the outside. I only heard, to my delight, three voices. Did that meant that... it wasn't here? I listened carefully. The distinct Russian voice of a demon called Svetlana sounded out. I didn't mind this one as much. It never caused any harm. If I had to pick one to be stuck with, it'd be this one. I also heard the voice of a crotchety old man. This one liked to be called Chester. It came out if I was frustrated. It was irritating, sure, but not really an issue. Then I heard an Australian accent. I grit my teeth. This one went by Manitoba Smith. I hated it. It was clever, wily, and tended to get it the way of everything. It came out if I wore a Fedora, which I had discovered only recently. It was brave and brash, which got me into some... undesirable situations.

"Vhy von't Mike open his eyes? Is he afraid of us?" The one called Svetlana asked.

"I tell you, all you whippersnappers are cowards! Afraid of the three of us, please! We couldn't swat a fly!" Chester complained in his raspy voice.

I heard Manitoba chuckle and loathing rose in my chest. It wasn't the worst, but it was the most like me. That's why I despised him. "No, mates. He's not afraid of us. He just hates us, that's all. Ain't that right, Mikey?" I felt it crouch next to me. My hands balled into fists.

"Get away from me." I hissed, my eyes still shut.

"I don't take orders from you, mate. Sorry to disappoint."

The others snickered. I heard them whisper something about making me open my eyes. I felt them walk towards me, but they didn't get halfway before my blood ran cold. A deep, cruel voice sounded out.

"Now, now, Manitoba. You may not take orders from Mikey, but you do take orders from me. And I say get away from him."

They all froze.

"O-Of course." Manitoba stuttered. "I was just having some fun, mate-"

"Get back. I will not tell you again." Its tone was dangerous.

They scampered back, muttering frantic apologies. "Our mistake, Mal..."

"Ve didn't mean anyfing by it, Mal..."

"Please, forgive us, Mal..."

It ignored their fearful stammers and turned back to me. "Open your eyes, Michael."

I reluctantly obeyed, knowing that there wasn't much else I could do. My dark eyes landed on the silhouette of me. There were only a few differences. Its hair was combed over one eye, instead of sticking straight up, and it had the most bone-chilling smirk I'd ever seen.

"Don't worry, Michael. The others won't be bothering you anymore. Vito should be scheduled to return soon. I won't let them 'ruin your life' anymore."

"I'm not worried about them." I spat. "They didn't kill anyone."

Mal laughed. "There's no proof that I did, either. I'm good at covering my tracks."

"You're a monster! A cold-hearted, soulless monster!"

"And you're weak! You don't deserve to be in control!" Mal appeared to be losing its composure. "It was luck of the draw, you know! You brag about being the original personality, but it doesn't mean anything! You have two choices, the way I see it. You give me my rightful place in control or," its eyes glinted, "I take it."

"You'll be in control the day I die."

Mal raised an eyebrow. "Now, now, Mikey. I can make that happen. But I'm hesitant to do so. So much less pain in a simple death. I want you to be trapped... I want you to suffer like I have been for thirteen years."

"You won't win." I asserted, as if I was confident. I wasn't.

It knew this. Smirking, it tilted its chin up arrogantly. "Oh, Mikey... I already have."

I furrowed my brow. "What?" I was thrown off by its arrogance.

"You haven't figured it out yet? When Vito comes back, you won't be the one taking over for him."

A feeling of dread filled my stomach. "How... how do you know I won't beat you to it?"

"Because we both know who has the stronger will." Mal gloated.

I knew it was right. I'd have to rely on my wits to get out of this one. Quickly, I formulated a plan. I put on my most frustrated expression. "But... No, you don't!" I exclaimed stubbornly. "You... you won't..." I let some hesitance show on my face.

Mal sneered. "You know it's true. Don't kid yourself. Just admit it. You lose."

My shoulders sagged. "But... I..." I bowed my head in a sign of shame and submission. "I can't believe it..."

Mal opened its mouth to say something else self-promoting. That was right when the one called Vito appeared. It looked irritated and began to complain about my dad. I took the cue and immediately closed my eyes. I heard Mal yell, but it was too late. I was already back. Just before I went to open my eyes to resume consciousness, I felt Mal.

_ "Oh no, you don't!" _I heard his baritone in my head.

Suddenly, I let out a pained gasp. My eyes fluttered open. Was I awake? My head was pounding and I felt like I was floating. My vision was spotty. My dad was standing over me, looking at me nervously. It occurred to me that I was lying on the floor. I could feel the carpeting beneath by head.

"Mike?" His voice was full of concern and anxiety. "You okay? You fainted when I put your shirt on. I was worried."

I tried to force myself to smile, but found that I couldn't. My mouth wouldn't respond. I attempted sitting up, but was unable to do that either. I lay there, staring at my dad fearfully.

"Mike?" He asked again.

Suddenly, I sat up. My eyes widened. I couldn't control my own actions. "Yes?" My voice was cruel and deep, and dread settled in the pit of my stomach. No. No, that... that couldn't be.

"A-Are you okay, bud?" My dad questioned, his frown deepening.

I couldn't believe that Mal and I were... that we had... fused. We were both in control, fighting for dominance, and he was winning. I put all my effort into opening my mouth, only to have it snapped shut again. Mal's will was stronger. "I'm fine." It lied, now imitating my voice. I silently cursed it and heard it laugh inside my head. I was starting to panic.

Dad licked his lips, a nervous tic of his. "Mike," he chose his words carefully, "did you... go into your subconscious again?"

I wanted to nod. To confirm his suspicions. But I couldn't. "No. Vito must've made me faint. It must've just been the shock of having him bottled inside for so long."

Luckily, Mal didn't realize the mistake it had just made. My dad gaped at me. "Did you," he was in disbelief, "just call it 'Vito'? And 'him'? Since when do you consider them people, Mike?"

Mal just looked at him but spoke to me silently. _'We're not people to you, Michael?'_ He demanded.

_ 'Not in the slightest.'_ I retorted.

_ 'Then what are we, might I ask?'_

_ 'Demons_.' I responded automatically.

He growled but went back to my dad. A smirk spread across my face, by no fault of my own. I felt my hair fall down over one of my eyes. "You caught me." My voice dropped back down to the level of Mal's. I couldn't control it. I struggled to regain my position in charge, but found that it was impossible. Mal was blocking me.

"Did you miss me, father?" It questioned.

My dad recoiled, his expression suddenly dark and full of hatred. "I am not your father." He spat. "I am Mike's father."

"But I am Mike. Mike and I are one and the same."

"No. You're not." My dad snarled.

Mal laughed which caused Dad to stiffen. "We are now."

My dad froze. "W-What?" He stuttered fearfully. "What are you talking about?"

"Say hello, Mikey." It spoke.

I felt a mental prompt. It was like Mal was stabbing me in my brain over and over. I cringed but managed to keep my mouth shut. Its anger rose and I suddenly felt like I was being electrocuted. I let out a slight cry of pain. "Hi dad." I greeted weakly in an attempt to pacify the beast inside of me.

"Mike? Mike!" The man rushed forward and gripped my shoulder. "Mike, what is he doing to you?"

'_Go ahead, Mike. Tell him. Strike fear into his fragile heart.'_

I ignored Mal's voice. Reaching out, I put my hand on my dad's cheek. "I'm going to be... gone for a while, dad." I told him, my breathing labored.

A tear ran down my father's face and he lifted his hand. He gently placed it on top of mine. "I know." He said softly. "I won't let it ruin everything this time, Mike. I promise."

"I don't blame you for anything it did." I swore. For the first time in two years, I met his gaze. He let out an inaudible gasp. I knew he could see them in my eyes. All of five of them.

"Don't stop fighting, Mike." My dad whispered.

"I won't."

"Stay strong... for your mother."

And just like that, Mal began yanking me out of the driver's seat. "Dad." I desperately scrambled to say the three words I hadn't said for the longest time. My mouth could barely remember how to form them. "I lo-", I began.

But it was too late. Mal cut in. "Sorry to interrupt this touching goodbye. I know it's a rather important one, since it's your last. You won't be seeing Mike again." I heard Mal chuckle as I was dragged back into the depths of submission.

"Let go of my son."

"It's too late for that. I'm afraid your son is gone."

"You're a liar."

"If you say so."

"I do."

Mal sighed. "You make things so hard for me, father. Do you not care for me?" It mocked shamelessly.

"You're a merciless monster. I am not your father. You are not my son." His eyes flashed. I cringed. I knew his fury wasn't directed at me, but it was still somewhat terrifying.

The demon sneered. "I am your son now, since Mikey can no longer fulfill his duties."

"You will never be my son!"

"Now, now, Matthew. We've done this before, haven't we? Two years ago? I threatened you, and I delivered on that threat. Are you going to make that mistake again?"

He let out a low hiss. "You killed Lucy."

"Of course I did. You know that. You've known that all along. You're just in denial. I killed your wife, my own mother, because you refused to admit that I was your son. Next time..." Mal grinned. "I'll kill Mike's aunt. The only sibling of mother's that's left. Her family line is almost gone, father. Do you want to be responsible for that?"

The man trembled. He stared at Mal. "I..." Suddenly, he fell to his knees. He gazed up at it, his eyes full of pain. I felt my heart constrict. "Don't do it. I beg you. Don't kill Bella."

"Then say it. Say that I'm your son." I knew that Mal didn't care about being my father's son. It just wanted the power, the control. It wanted to make my dad feel weak and helpless. It wanted it rob him of his dignity.

"You... you a-are..."

"Say it."

"You are my son." Dad glared at the ground in defeat. His scowl was sad. He knew that he had lost. "There. I said it."

A deep, cold cackle escaped my throat. I winced. "Was that so difficult, father? It's not hard to give up."

My dad stayed silent, his dark eyes on the floor in shame. I wanted to cry.

"You might as well get used to it. I'm staying here and you can't do anything about it."

That seemed to be directed at me as well. I realized with an awful jolt that Mal had gotten his way. I was suffering. This was worse torture than anything I could've imagined. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

When I opened my eyes, I was back in my subconscious. The demons were gathered around me. Mal, to my relief, didn't appear to be present. The one that called itself Svetlana stepped forward; it wore a look of concern.

"Mike, are you-"

Manitoba put a hand on its shoulder to keep it from touching me. "I don't think so, sheila. We had orders to watch him, not to help him."

"But just look at him!" It protested. "He's so beat up!"

Vito guffawed. "That's the point, ya goonba!" Its face was so dumb and ugly that I really wanted to punch it.

Something occurred to me. Beat up? I touched my face and let out a whimper. One eye was swollen, probably blacked. My nose felt crooked and had traces of blood on it. It hurt like crazy when I touched it. I could barely speak, my jaw seemed to be broken. There were tear stains on my cheeks. I ran a stiff hand through my hair and found that there was blood there as well. I lifted my other hand and let out a wail of pain. My index finger was bent at an odd angle and I found myself unable to move it. My wrist wouldn't move either.

"What..." I had to fight to speak, for every word was like someone was jamming their knee into my chin, "happened?"

"You don't remember?" Chester asked in awe. "How could you forget a walloping like that?" It let out a laugh, which quickly transitioned into a cough. "Mal sure gave you the what-for!"

I furrowed my brow, then winced. "Mal... did this?"

Manitoba walked towards me and then knelt next to the spot where I was sitting. "You challenged him to a fight for control. It was stupid of you. Mal has powers in here. He didn't even have to touch you."

"What?" I grimaced. "How...?"

"While he's in here, he can do things by manipulating your mind. Creepy things." Manitoba explained. "You started beating yourself up. You couldn't stop, mate. But you wouldn't submit. You finally knocked yourself out."

"Where... is it... now?" I felt a sharp pain in my side.

Manitoba shot me a disapproving look. "It? Come on, mate, we aren't things. We're people."

"No." I said stubbornly, despite the pain I was experiencing. "Where is... Mal?"

Manitoba sighed. "He's back in control. You're free to join him. He plans on making you watch everything destructive he does anyway. He'll be back to get you soon."

"Destructive?" I squeaked.

"He has plans, mate. He wants revenge, and he's going to get it. He hated being cooped up." The Aussie paused. "Then again, we all did."

A lump rose in my throat as something occurred to me. "My... dad..."

"No, no, he won't hurt your pop, kookaburra." Manitoba assured me. "He wants him to suffer too."

"Manitoba... is Mal going... to kill me?"

The fedora-wearing copy of me blinked. "No. He hates you too much to kill you."

"Are you... guys..." my vision was beginning to blur and I fought to stay awake, "going to kill... me?"

"No." Manitoba responded. "We don't want you dead."

"But... you hate me..." I pointed out. I was doing my best to get their sympathy. Based on the tears in Svetlana's eyes, it was working.

Manitoba nodded. "Yeah. But just so you know..." it leaned forward and very softly, into my ear, it whispered, "we hate Mal more."

At this, I felt a spark of hope. I nodded, ignoring the sting in my head.

"Don't move too much, Mike." Svetlana told me worriedly. "You'll hurt yourself more. Ve don't vant it to get vorse."

Vito crossed its arms. "We ain't s'posed to help the enemy!"

Manitoba opened its mouth to retort but suddenly went stiff. "He's coming."

Svetlana, Chester, and Vito immediately backed away, their eyes wide with fear. Manitoba stood, but stayed by my side. It would've brought me a sense of security if Manitoba hadn't been working for Mal.

I watched as a long black shadow appeared on the wall. It slid across the floor until it rose up. My breath caught in my throat as it began to take a three-dimensional shape. Deep, menacing laughter began to boom through the subconscious. Chester covered its ears. Vito stayed completely still, though I could almost feel the fear radiating off of it. Svetlana was shaking, and I could see it was trying to hold back sobs. Color began to seep into the shadowy figure; first its hair, then its clothes, then its skin. Its face showed up last, and I cringed as soon as it did. It was smirking at me.

"Mikey. Good to see you're conscious." It looked me up and down and I saw its eyes sparkle. Shaking its head slightly, it let out a tsking noise. "My, my, Michael. Self-harm is not okay."

"I didn't... do... this!" I tried to burst angrily, cringing. "You did."

Mal feigned confusion. "No, I don't think so. Everyone saw you do it to yourself. Right guys?"

Everybody nodded hurriedly, not looking directly at Mal. Manitoba stayed virtually still except for one brisk nod of its head. Its gaze was stony and fixed on its so-called 'boss.' I could see the aforementioned hatred in its eyes.

Mal turned towards the other demon. "Is something wrong, Manitoba?" It inquired softly, its tone mocking.

"No."

"I don't believe that." Mal responded. "You don't feel bad for Mikey, do you?"

"No. He imprisoned us. He deserves it." Manitoba seemed to be reciting this, as if it were a tiresome line they had been forced to memorize.

I forced my mouth to open, drawing the attention away from Manitoba. "Leave me... alone." I gnarred with a little effort. "Crawl... back to the... dark hole you came from."

"Oh, Mike. The only dark hole I come from is right here. Your mind. And I won't stay here for long."

I managed to turn up one of the corners of my mouth in a pained smirk. "We'll see."

"Yes, we will. But I tell you what, Michael. If you relent and stop fighting, I will heal you."

"What?"

It grinned. "You heard me. I can heal you. No more injuries. All you have to do is say three little words. Easy words. It's quite simple really."

"What is... it?"

"You are stronger." It answered calmly.

I let out a sputtering cough of disbelief. I gaped at my evil counterpart. "I will not tell… you that… you are stronger! Especially when you… are not!"

Mal sighed. "Very well. Then I have no choice but to inflict more pain upon you." Its black, soulless eyes glinted. "Or rather, have you inflict more damage on yourself." It winked.

I felt my right fist rise up into the air. I tried to force it down with all of my might, but to no avail. My mind was weak, so was my body. I couldn't take any more pain or damage. Much more and I would surely die. It may have been all within my mind, but, as they say, mind over matter. My hand hovered in front of my face. My fingers wiggled before balling back into a fist. I kept my mouth shut. Just like that, my already injured fist swung into my temple. On came the excruciating headache.

"Give up." Mal prompted.

"N-Never." I declared, without much conviction.

It ran a hand through its hair. "If that's how you want it."

It flicked its wrist, and my fist came crashing into my already broken nose, blood began to come cascading down. Mal lifted its hand, and suddenly I was floating in the air. It brought its hand down, and I plummeted towards the floor of my subconscious. I let out a terror-filled scream. My body collided with the floor. I landed squarely on my arm, and felt it snap beneath my weight. I whimpered.

"Say it, Michael." It ordered.

I was bruised. I was broken. My body felt crippled and useless. But still, I managed to shake my head. "No..." I whispered.

It was getting impatient. I went soaring into the air again and flew into a wall. I groaned.

"SAY IT."

I couldn't take much more. I didn't even bother to say anything this time. I just laid in a crumpled heap, waiting for Mal to continue its onslaught. I felt someone's eyes on me. I slowly looked up and saw Manitoba. There were tears in its eyes. It saw me gazing at it and quickly glanced away. I looked at the others. They all had the same reaction. It then struck me that they didn't like to see me being tortured like this.

Touched, I forced a smile. My eyes met Mal's, and slowly I spoke. "I'm not afraid of you." I told it.

The sentence seemed to echo through the area. I heard everyone holding their breath. Fear was present on every face except mine and Mal's. My evil doppelganger stared at me. Its black eyes flashed dangerously. Its hand twitched and I closed my eyes, expecting to go soaring through the air again. Nothing happened. I opened my eyes warily and saw Mal standing over me.

"You're pathetic." It spat. "You're not even worth my time. I should just let you die."

I stared right back at it. "Then..." I took a shuddery breath, and grimaced; clearly one of my ribs was broken, "do it." I dared it.

"You're testing me, which is not a wise idea." Mal warned me. "But I'm not going to kill you. Not yet. I want to see you suffer. And right now," it paused, "that requires you to be healed."

It snapped its fingers. That was when the weirdest sensation took place. I felt my bones mending, pulling back together. My headache faded and my fingers straightened. My nose got really warm before it set back into place. The blood I was coated in vanished. The swelling in my jaw went away. My wrist made an almost sickening cracking sound as it snapped back to where it should be. I felt empowered. Energy flowed through me. I could think clearly again. The pounding in my ears dissipated. I tried to get up, and found it effortless. I no longer hurt. My legs were perfectly sturdy, instead of wiggling like jelly.

"You healed me?" I asked in confusion, enjoying the return of my ability to speak.

Mal scoffed and rolled its eyes. "Do not become confused, Michael. That was not an act of kindness or sympathy. Honestly, it would've been more humane to let you die."

"But you didn't let me die." I pointed out.

"No, I did not. But you are going to wish that I did."

I glanced at Manitoba. The Aussie was staring at the ground, its fedora tilted down over its eyes. Its hands were balled into fists. Trying to buy myself time, I crossed my arms. "So why me, Mal?"

"Excuse me?" It asked, bemused.

"Why do you hate me? There are others. Look around you. I'm not the only one in your way. But you choose to make _my_ life miserable. Why?"

Mal sneered. "The others can be persuaded. Overpowered. They understand that they are outmatched. But you." He glowered at me. "You are deluded and bullheaded. You try to fight me." It took a step towards me, getting in my face. My eyes met its dead on. "I don't like opposition, Michael."

"That's tough, because I'm always going to oppose you." I spat.

"Precisely." Mal took a step back. "That's why I have chosen to target you. You remember when you first met me, don't you?"

I let out a growl. "Yes. Even though I've spent eight years trying to forget, I still remember."

"Come now, Mikey. I was never that bad. I never caused that much harm."

"Mal! Because of you I was expelled! Because of you I was put in an institution! I was in therapy for three years! I still have to talk to the school counselor once a week, and I'm almost in high school!" I yelled.

It shrugged. "You were being bullied." It pointed out. You were tormented, tortured. That's why you created me."

"I would never try to create something like you!" Mal nodded. "I know you didn't try. But your brain gave you what you needed. I was your first alternate, Michael. I took care of the bullies. I fixed your problems."

"You didn't fix anything! You made my whole life worse! Those bullies were found in the locker-rooms, tied and gagged! They watched the footage, and I was labeled 'disturbed'! They kicked me out, Mal!"

"I was more than willing to end your little conflict-"

"YOU TRIED TO BURN DOWN THE SCHOOL!" I screamed hysterically. "I ALMOST WENT TO PRISON!"

Mal looked bored. "Yes, but you didn't. You were diagnosed with MPD and sent to the mental ward. It was only a year."

"But you didn't leave after that year, did you?" I seethed. "You stayed, only making things worse. You would take over and terrorize my friends until I had absolutely none left. You ruined my life. My grades fell, my relatives started cutting their ties to me, eventually you just stopped going to school. The whole time, I was just stuck in my mind, crying. It wasn't until I was that I came back out."

"Ah yes. Because your mom found a church that would perform an exorcism. That kept me quiet for quite a while." It nodded. "But I came back, didn't I? I will always come back. You'll never be rid of me."

"You ruined my life." I hissed again.

"I didn't ruin anything. I simply made it… more exciting."

I was shaking with indignation. "I was a KID, Mal! You stole my childhood and there was nothing I could do about it!"

"Yes, well. After the exorcism, I only stayed quiet for a year, isn't that right, Mike?"

Tears welled up in my eyes. "You waited a year after coming back… That's when…"

"I killed your mother."

Anger began to bubble up inside me. I lunged for it and managed to get in a hit. My fist collided with its face. Its eyes narrowed and I flew back. I saw that I had blacked its eye, but the wound healed quickly. It advanced towards me and seized my shoulder.

"That's enough." It spat.

Before I could squirm away, it closed its eyes. I let out a cry of anguish as I was, once again, sucked into the same body as Mal. We were, once again, both in control. _"Not both."_ Mal corrected me irritatedly. _"Just me. You're just along for the ride." _

I would've retorted, but was immediately filled with the sharpest, most intense fear I had ever experienced. I knew where we were. My eyes flit around the room, landing on the cream-colored tiles and the ugly, plaster walls. My heart sped up as I stared at the little red lockers lining the hall.

_ "No…" _I thought, beginning to panic. _"Oh no." _

We were at my old school.

**A/N: Hi guys! I would like to profusely thank everyone who favorited, followed, or reviewed. Extra special thanks to my first reviewer, Jaz2mine, who also favorited and followed! Their review was part of my inspiration for getting this chapter done. I'm really glad that, though I only have a few reviews, they're all positive. I know this is a weird story, and this was a rather violent chapter. This is a dark story, I'm just going to warn you guys. But anyways, thank you so much for reading. Drop me a review if you liked it! **


	3. Chapter 3

_ "Are you ready to wreak some havoc, Michael?"_ Mal questioned me silently, as we stormed through the hallway of the very place that had haunted my dreams for years.

I tried to drag my feet, tried to stop him, but there was no use. I kept walking determinedly down the hall. _"Mal, no. Please, please stop." _I begged. _"Don't hurt anyone." _

A cruel laugh echoed through my mind, and a chuckle rose in my throat. I internally growled at Mal's amusement. Hatred for the demon filled me. We kept going. Every time we passed a classroom, I held my breath. I could see little kids inside. Their faces were bright, ripe with opportunity. My heart constricted. If I could've grabbed Mal, held it back, I would've. I knew that if I hurt even a single one of these kids, I would not be able to live with myself.

Rounding a corner, my breath caught in my throat. I stared down the extremely familiar corridor, my pulse racing. Classrooms branched off from every angle, but I could only stare at one. The third one on the left. We walked towards it, and I gazed at the door, mesmerized. I noticed that next to the door was a bulletin board. Like all the others I remembered, it was laden with math facts and gaudy decorations. This one featured a sparkly green frog with a multiplication table on it. Written on it in green paint was, "Mrs. Collins' Second Grade Class!"

Mrs. Collins. My stomach twisted. That woman had made my second grade year a living nightmare. She had it out for me from the moment she laid her eyes on me. My vulnerable mental state only fueled her fire. She was always picking on me, singling me out. She never once told my childhood bullies to knock it off. And when she had found the bullies, the very ones that had made my life miserable, tied and gagged, she had had a field day. Expelling me made her so happy. It was a huge victory to her. As she pointed her crooked finger towards the exit, joy was present in her soulless eyes.

I peered into the classroom. Standing a ways away was the awful woman herself. In one hand she held a yardstick. She was pointing at the board excessively, gesturing wildly. She was wearing the same long, paisley skirt she always used to wear, paired with the same button-up blouse. Stray gray hairs stuck out of her messy bun. Her hard, green eyes, were almost unreadable, but deep within I saw malice. I grimaced just looking at her.

But despite my extreme loathing of the woman, I couldn't focus on her for long. My eyes found their way to the children. There had to be about thirty of them. Sweet little kids. Each was wearing a big smile. They giggled and whispered amongst themselves, only looking at the board occasionally. Their eyes were wide with the joy that comes with youth. I scanned them, and suddenly, my gaze landed upon a little boy. He was the only one that did not look happy. In fact, he looked miserable. He had deep chocolate eyes, and dark hair. He was also very tan. He reminded me of me. He kept glancing at Mrs. Collins nervously, as if he was afraid of her. Fidgeting, he gnawed at his thumb nail. I could tell it was a bad habit, and probably one Mrs. Collins yelled at him for. So it wasn't just me. The wretched woman picked someone to hate every year. I bubbled up with rage.

Unfortunately for me, Mal fed off of my anger. _"Starting to see things my way, aren't you? She made you suffer. Now it's your turn to get even." _

_ "No." _I responded, still staring at that little boy. _"I'm not like you. I won't let myself sink to your level." _

I felt a smirk cross my face. _"Oh Michael..." _Mal drawled. _"I think that if you look a little closer you'll find that you're already there." _

Something occurred to me. My heart rate sped up. I began to feel faint. _"Mal..." _I started, half furious, half frightened. _"These are just kids. You can't hurt innocent little kids." _

Mal didn't respond for a minute. For what seemed like an eternity, we stood there. Finally, he rumbled, _"You can't be serious." _

I was caught off-guard. _"What?"_

_ "I may be out to ruin you, Mikey, but I do have limits. Would I kill the teacher that ruined my fun all those years ago? Oh yes, most definitely. Would I kill little kids that haven't even had a chance to do anything wrong yet? No, I would not."_

A wave of relief sank over me. _"Oh, thank god."_

_ "Don't celebrate yet, Michael. The fun is just beginning." _

Against my will, I stepped into the classroom. When no one so much as looked, I cleared my throat. Everyone then turned to stare at me. I realized with a start that my hair was over one eye, and that I was sneering at everyone. I looked like Mal. The kids appeared confused. Mrs. Collins, however, recognized me immediately. She went rigid. Her yardstick clattered against the ground. Her swampy eyes widened.

"Hello, Mrs. Collins. Did you miss me?" Mal spoke in its own deep voice, which was enough to cause all the little kids to shudder. It was understandable. Its voice was bone-chilling.

She took a shaky breath. "Michael Marks." Even after all those years, her tone was still tinged with loathing when she said my name.

"No."It laughed. "No, Mrs. Collins. I'm not Mike. Though, I understand how you could get us confused. You always used to when we were little as well."

She pursed her lips. "Excuse me?"

"You really are clueless, aren't you?" It rolled its eyes.

"Michael Marks, get out of my classroom this instant, or I will call your parents!"

Mal crossed its arms. "My my, Gladys. You don't bother keeping up with the students you torture? Pity. There's been a lot going on."

Her jaw dropped. "Did you just call me-"

"I'm not a fool. I know your first name. I do pay attention." I could feel my eyes flash. "I also never forget."

She was speechless.

"Do you want to know your error? You asked to speak to my parents. I only have one now. My mother is dead."

She had no time to respond, though I couldn't see her saying anything even if she had. Her mouth just opened and shut uselessly.

"So, Gladys, after you had Mike expelled, did you hear his diagnosis?"

The gray-haired woman straightened. She fixed me with a cold gaze that used to make me want to cry. "I'm not following." She snapped. It was clear she was on edge.

"Well, after you had us expelled for that little incident-"

"Little? Mr. Marks, three boys were found tied and gagged in the school locker-rooms! They had to go to therapy because of that!"

Mal nodded calmly. "So did Mike." It answered. "After he got out of the institution, that is. Now that I think of it, he still goes, actually."

"Why are you talking in the third person?" She cried in exasperation.

"Mrs. Collins, I told you." It moved towards her. "I'm. Not. Mike."

"Then who exactly are you?" The teacher shouted, right in my face.

Mal didn't answer her question. Instead, it stretched. Yawning, it spoke again, "Do you know why Mike was put in the institution?" Not waiting for an answer, it continued. "Because after you expelled him, he was taken in for a psych exam. He failed."

"I could have told you that." Mrs. Collins shot.

"Maybe. But could tell me what was determined in that failure?"

She had no answer.

"Mike was diagnosed with Multi-Personality Disorder."

The old woman took a small step back, though her face betrayed no emotion. "Is that so?"

"It is." It confirmed. "Mike never caused trouble in your class, Gladys. Never. He was terrified of you. But see," it advanced towards her, "I wasn't."

She took another, larger, step back, and now her back was against the whiteboard. I could see that she was trembling.

"L-L-Leave her alone!" A small, shaky voice piped up.

"This is none of your business, Elliott!" The teacher barked. "Don't you dare get involved!"

The brave boy who had spoken was the one I had been focused on. When Mrs. Collins yelled at him, you could see him deflate. I pitied for him. He had been trying to stand up for her, praying that it would make her like him. I knew all too well how that felt.

"Don't bother, Elliott." Mal gnarred, glowering at my former teacher. "You'll never earn her favor. Once the target's on your back, you can't take it off."

She bristled with indignation. "Enough, Michael! I don't need you filling my kids' heads with your fabrications! I shouldn't' expect less, I suppose. You always were a liar."

Immediately, Mal was upon her. It lifted her a few inches off the ground and pinned her to the whiteboard, its hand curling around her throat. "I never lied to you." It hissed. "Never. I am no liar. Just like when I told you I would get you back for everything you pulled. I followed through. I always follow through." Then, a dark smile settled on my face. My voice got even deeper. "And I told you, my name is not Michael." I felt my eyes darken. They were probably black at this point. "It's Mal."

She gagged. Her bony hands grasped desperately at mine. She attempted to free herself, coughing the whole time. If I could've shut my eyes, I would've. Her face began to turn blue. That was when the noise of crying met my ears. The kids were crying. This was enough to inspire Mal to let go.

"These kids just saved your life," it informed her, "but maybe not for long." It added softly, its tone menacing.

Mrs. Collins was doubled over, gasping for air. "I..." she shook with every deep breath, "I'm calling the police!" She wheezed weakly.

It snickered. "Don't be so naive, Gladys. They won't send me to jail. I'm 'unstable', remember? Wasn't that your wording?" He smirked. "If anything, I'll go back to the mental ward. And chances are, I won't stay there long. I'm a minor. They'll feel obligated to let me out."  
"You're a monster!" The woman screamed, as we turned on our heel to leave.

My eyes glinted. I stopped and gazed back at her. I must've looked terrifying, because she inhaled sharply. "So I've been told."

As we headed out the door, past the children that we'd quite possibly scarred for life, Mal stopped. It stared at little Elliott. The boy gaped at us with wide eyes. "P-Please don't hurt me..." He squeaked.

"I won't." For once, Mal's voice contained no signs of malice. "You have enough problems as is."

I wasn't sure what it meant by that, but then I noticed. All along the boy's arms were black and blue splotches. Bruises. Now that I looked, his right eye appeared slightly swollen too. He was being beaten. Someone in his family was abusing him. Elliott rapidly tugged down his sleeves and averted his attention to the desk, noticing our gaze.

"Don't worry." Mal's eyes twinkled. "You'll get your revenge someday, I'm sure."

"I don't want revenge." Elliott whispered.

"Not yet." Mal agreed. We then turned around and left the classroom.

We were almost out of the school when the earsplitting wail of a siren began echoing through the air. The regular lights all turned off, and the red glow of the emergency lights filled the hallway. They flashed ominously. Suddenly, something cut through the sirens. A brief staticky noise sounded. It was followed by:

"Attention students and staff," a nasally voice came through the intercom, "code black. I repeat, code black."

Immediately, all the classroom doors slammed shut. I could hear the faint clicks of them locking. The sirens went back on blaring.

I let out a silent cheer. "No!" Mal growled aloud, banging our fist against the brick wall in frustration. "No, no, no!" He let out a curse word, and then hit the wall harder.

I was too busy being triumphant to notice the jolts of pain in my hand every time it struck the wall. _"What's wrong, Mal?" _I taunted. _"Did this ruin your plans?" _

_ "Idiot!" _It seethed. _"I was trying to get out of here! Now I can't!"_

My internal smile slid off my internal face. _"What?" _A feeling of dread had found its way into the pit of my stomach.

_ "Code black is a full lockdown, you peon!"_ It snapped.

I couldn't figure out what he was freaking out about as I inquired, _"And that means…?" _

_ "That means no one can get in or out! And they call the cops! It's only used if someone broke in and is a threat to the kids!"  
"But who…"_ I started. The realization hit me, and I swallowed. _"Oh."_

Mal scoffed at me_. "Mike?" _

_ "Yeah?" _

_ "You're a moron."_

**A/N: A huge thanks to everyone who reviewed: firelifeblizzard, That one Mudkip, Muffinmilk317, and the-new-face-in-town! You guys make writing worthwhile! Also, thanks to everyone who favorited and followed. I'm having a lot of fun writing this story. I've already planned where it's going to go, so the updates should be coming pretty fast. I hope to get another one up in the next few days! And if you liked this chapter, then don't be afraid to drop me a review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Have you ever felt fear so extreme, so intense, that it almost seems irrational? If you haven't, feel blessed. It is awful. It consumes you, filling your brain with adrenaline and making it nearly impossible to think straight. Your first instinct is to panic. You go into what's called "fight or flight". You either confront whatever is scaring you, or you run away. Honestly, I don't really know what I would've done. I'd like to think I'd stick around like a brave warrior and fight my fear. But I have a feeling I'd be more likely to go racing in the other direction.

I say this because I didn't have any option. I was staying put whether I wanted to or not.

My pure, mortal terror was coursing through my veins. I was almost choking on the panic that was rising in my throat. I was screaming, though since I was unable to make my mouth move, nobody heard it but me. I can honestly say that I had never experienced such concern for the safety of everyone around me. I was locked in a school filled with innocent children. They surrounded me. They were in every classroom, hiding behind locked doors. Hiding… from me. I was glad that I couldn't hear their whimpers; it only would've broke my heart further. But to be honest, I couldn't hear much of anything. The sounds of sirens filled my ears. The high-pitched, warning siren that the school had turned on. The lower, resonant drone of the police sirens outside. With a sinking feeling, I listened to the blaring noise, and my stomach clenched up. I was completely and utterly trapped. There was no chance of escape.

It wouldn't have been so bad if I was just trapped in the school. But no. I was also trapped in my own body, imprisoned by the homicidal maniac that had taken over my mind. I had no control over my actions. I couldn't move, I couldn't smile, I couldn't even blink by my own free will. The only thing I could do was watch, hope, and pray.

Well, that, and I could complain loudly to that same homicidal maniac.

_ "Great, Mal! Just great!" _I stressed internally. _"You're going to get us arrested!"_

The demon huffed aloud, irritated by me. It seemed that I had insulted its ability to evade trouble. But it recovered quickly and responded with an arrogant chuckle, "No, Mike." It said, not seeming to care if anyone heard it talking to itself. "We are in no danger of going to prison." I felt a smirk cross my face. "Besides, it's not like you haven't been there before."

_ "Because of you!" _I wailed. _"I've been arrested TWICE because of you! And I don't even know what-"_

"And you never will." It interrupted. "What's important is that it was only a night each, it was not a real prison, it was a detention center, and that we're not going back." It paused, and when it spoke again, I heard a tone of mocking. "At least… not yet."

I stiffened.

All of a sudden, everything went completely silent. It was as if I had lost my hearing. The sirens died down immediately. Not a sound could be heard except my own breathing. The red, emergency lights that had been flashing stopped too. I could feel faint concern, mixed with intrigue, radiating from Mal.

A familiar creak reached my ears as the front door opened. I noted that the classrooms stayed shut. Footsteps filled the hallways, I could hear muttering. It sounded as if someone was quietly giving orders. If it had been up to me, we would've taken a step back. But Mal, being the stubborn individual it was, stood its ground.

I tensed up as four police officers rounded the corner towards us. I could hear that there were others going down different hallways. There had to be at least thirty of them. My pulse was racing. I was going to end up in jail… for real this time.

_ "I'm so sorry, mom." _I thought tearily. _"I… I've let you down." _

To my surprise, Mal did not retort. It remained silent, seemingly thinking. I probably should've stayed mute, but couldn't stop myself from daring to say, _"No stupid comeback? I'm shocked. Surely, you have something mean to say to wreck my confidence." _

_ "Naturally." _Mal thought smoothly, never missing a beat. _"But I have a more relevant concern at the moment.__" _

_ "Really? And what would that be?" _

I could feel its self-satisfaction. It was revolting. _"Getting into character."_

I would've questioned it further, but I didn't have the chance. I felt the four policemen study us. Slowly they began advancing. Only one pulled out its gun. It stayed back a ways, with the barrel pointed at my head. Another officer also hung back. It was talking in a hushed voice to a small radio on its shoulder. The other two crept towards us, their hands open in a sign of peace.

"Is it him?" The larger of the two was a burly, mustached Latino. His voice reminded me of gravel in a tin wheelbarrow.

The other one was short, coming up to about my chin. He was extremely muscular, despite his lack of height. He had a red beard, but his head seemed to be somewhat bare under his police-cap. "Fits his description." He said calmly, meeting our eyes. "Grab him."

Before we had any time to react, the large man grabbed us and threw us to the ground. He twisted an arm behind our back as he did so, pushing our chest into the tile floor. I groaned internally. Mal let out a pained grunt.

The other man, clearly in charge, crouched down in front of us. "Howdy." He seemed to have a sort of gruff Southern accent. "What exactly do ya think yer doing?" He questioned.

"W-what's going on?" Mal cried, surprising even me. "Where," it sounded like it was in a lot more pain than it actually was, "where am I?"

The man furrowed his bushy, red eyebrows. "S'cuse me? He gnarred.

"I don't understand… are you guys c-c-cops?"

"What were ya s'pecting? Ya break into a school, ya threaten a second-grade teacher in front of her class, and then ya think ya can get out of here without a second thought? Nice try!"

I felt Mal widen its menacing, black eyes. "What? Oh no! No, no, no!" It was still its same dark voice, but without the usual threatening undertone. It sounded… afraid.

"This is a surprise to you?" The huge man that was pinning us down rumbled.

"I am so, so sorry! I… I can't believe he actually…"

"He? I think ya mean you." The redheaded cop narrowed his eyes, getting in our face a little.

Mal shook our head woefully. "Not exactly, sir."

"You telling me ya ain't Michael Marks?"

"Well… I am, but I'm not."

He looked at me critically. "I ain't following ya, son."

The demon sighed. "He's a part of me. I just… I can't control him."

"Michael Marks is a part of you." His voice was plagued with disbelief.

Mal winced as the cop said my name. "Y-yes." It fidgeted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. Some of its shaggy hair fell further into our eyes. "I'm afraid so. My real name is Mal, sir. Mal Marks."

"Mal? What kind of name is that?" The policeman snorted.

Our eyes flashed, but it managed to hide its rage. "It's a nickname. Short for…" It paused for a moment. We both knew what it was a nickname for. The Malevolent One. That's what he had introduced himself as when we first met in my subconscious. I was the one who had shortened it. Of course, he couldn't very well tell the officer that. "Short for Malcolm." It finished decisively.

I sighed. Leave it to Mal to come up with something that made sense.

"I see." The cop nodded. "Well, Malcolm-"

"Please, sir, I prefer Mal."

Rolling his eyes, the man huffed. "Right. Sure. Mal. Well, _Mal. _Why don't you s'plain this to me, since I'm not gettin' it. Michael's a part of you, but ya can't control him?" He snorted. "Oh, wait, I got it. He's an alter ego right?"

It ran a hand through our hair, mimicking my nervous tic. "Not an a-alter ego exactly. A… personality."

"You're telling me that you have MPD?"

"Y-yes. He takes over sometimes. I can't stop him."

The ginger did not seem impressed. "Boy. MPD. It's been a while since I've heard that one."

"I'm telling the truth. I got expelled from this school because of Mike. You can call my dad and ask. You can even call my current high school. It might even be in my file here if you look."

I was seething. Mal was stealing my story. It was stealing my habits. It was stealing everything but my voice and hairstyle. I was lucky that it couldn't do that. It could never keep its hair out of its eyes. Plus it wouldn't be able to mock my voice. It wasn't similar enough to his.

_ "Stop lying, Mal!" _

To my surprise, there was no response. I couldn't hear Mal at all anymore, except for what he said out loud. I couldn't even sense his emotions. My order simply bounced around in my skull, echoing in and out. I groaned. He seemed to have put up some sort of mental block.

_ "Mal?" _I tried again, cringing at how desperate my voice sounded. _"Mal, answer me!" _

Nothing.

"Well, mentally stable or not," the man started, "you're coming with us. We're taking you in for questioning."

The demon's gaze darkened. I could feel my brows sink down as my eyes narrowed. An angry frown slid across my lips. My fists clenched. The large officer climbed off of me, keeping a firm grip on my arm, which was still twisted behind my back. A little bolt of pain shot up to my shoulder blade. "No." Mal growled.

"No?" The man in charge laughed, standing up and brushing himself off. "That's real cute, boy."

"Release me. Now." Mal demanded ferociously.

A slight wave of alarm passed over his face, but was quickly chased away by indignation. "Who do you think you-"

"I said RELEASE ME." Its voice rose dramatically in volume, while getting deeper in pitch. It sounded truly intimidating as it added, "Or you WILL pay the consequences."

The henchman's eyes got as wide as saucers. He slowly turned to gape at the man that was most obviously his superior. I felt his grip loosen. The man with the gun inhaled sharply. His rifle stayed trained on my head, though I could see it was shaking something awful. The cop who had been muttering rapidly into his radio went quiet. His face, however, unlike the others, betrayed no terror.

"Don't let go of him, Bruno." The head policeman barked, trying to reestablish his authority over the situation. "He's just a kid. He can't do anything."

"Yes, sir." Bruno swallowed, looking down at us warily. He squeezed our wrist and forced our arm up higher.

Mal grunted, clearly displeased. "You should've listened." It shook its head. "I guess… his blood is on your hands."

Suddenly, it freed itself with speed you wouldn't have thought possible. It twisted its arm back at Bruno with such a force that the man had no choice but to let go. Mal seized the front of the man's navy blue shirt. With the other, it balled our hand into a not very threatening fist. We didn't have much muscle.

But it was clear that Mal actually had no intention of hitting Bruno. Instead, it brought its fist down to Bruno's shoulder. It opened its hand and began pressing two of its fingers into the man's shoulder blade, not quickly like a hit, but slowly and deliberately. The man's eyes got even wider. Pain become displayed on his face. Mal grinned darkly. Bruno tensed up; it appeared he was unable to move. After a second, his eyes lolled back into his head. He collapsed onto the floor, twitching.

"BRUNO!" The gunman screamed.

"NO!" The ginger yelled, hitting the ground next to the fallen officer. He put his head to his colleague's chest and listened. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. "He's alive. Oh thank God he's alive."

"For now." Mal responded calmly, a bone-chilling smirk on its face. "He's simply in a very unfortunate state. He's almost insentient, enough so to render him incapable of movement. But he's conscious enough to feel the full effect of the pain." It explained haughtily. "But rest assured: come any closer and I'll not hesitate to end his life."

I could hardly believe the words coming out of my mouth. It made me want to cry. Only Mal could be so heartless and unfeeling. Only Mal was this ruthless. This Bruno could have a wife! He could have kids! What would they do if their father was killed by some insensate teenager? It made my heart wrench. I knew it didn't have the same effect on Mal. It didn't care what happened to anyone. It only cared about two things: getting its way, and enacting its revenge on me.

The stout policeman froze. His hand twitched towards the gun on his hip. I could tell that my eyes were glinting eagerly. Mal was watching the slight movement with an emotion that could almost be comparable to joy.

"Don't do it, chief."

A clattering sound reached our ears, startling us. My head turned and I saw that the gunman had let his weapon fall.

"Bruno has a family to worry about." The man said with conviction.

My greatest fears were realized. My heart was in my throat. I would've cried out, if only I was able.

"But Eliot…" The police chief's voice was quaking. "There's no way this kid…"

"Please, Coulter." Eliot shook his head briefly, sadness in his eyes.

Coulter seemed so conflicted. "There's no way this kid can be faster than a bullet." He attempted to reason desperately.

Mal tilted its head, a haunting smirk on its face. "You're right." It agreed, slowly getting down to squat next to Bruno. "I could never be faster than a bullet." Never looking away from Coulter's horror-filled eyes, it drew Bruno's gun. It transferred the firearm to its other hand and grinned. "Oh yes. This is much more efficient."

Coulter was shaking. "I…"

"This is Officer O'Knally to headquarters." The cop on the radio began. "We need back-up. I repeat, we need-"

"NO." Coulter ordered suddenly.

"What?" Officer O'Knally looked floored. "But, sir-"

"I said no. Cancel that." The chief insisted.

Anger flashed across the man's face, but he obeyed. "Scratch that." He hissed.

Coulter nodded. "Alright, kid." He knelt, so he was at eye level with the crouching Mal. "What do you want?"

"Glad you came to your senses." Mal cackled. "My conditions are simple. I walk out of here, completely unscathed, and your buddy lives. Do we have a deal?" It outstretched its hand.

"Sir, I don't-" Officer O'Knally tried again.

Coulter didn't even look back at him this time. "I don't want to hear it, O'Knally." He growled. "Okay, Mic-" he corrected himself, "Mal. You got yerself a deal. Put down the gun."

A cruel, resounding laugh erupted from my throat. "That's cute. Unfortunately for you, I'm really not that naïve. I don't release the gun until I'm out the door, and even then it will be left on the pavement. I don't plan on handing you my leverage."

"And how are we supposed to know you won't take it with ya?" Coulter questioned.

"I guess you're not." It shrugged. "I guess you'll just have to pray that I stick to my word. And if you do what I tell you to, I assure you that I will."

The police chief nodded stoically.

"Good. First, kick your guns towards me."

Coulter and Eliot did exactly as they were told without any hesitation. The corners of my mouth turned up in a triumphant smile. Taking his precious time, Mal stood up and lazily picked up the guns. It proceeded to empty them of their ammunition before dropping them on the floor. It kept Bruno's gun, which was still, of course, fully-loaded.

"Now, I'm going to leave. You'll let me go." Mal instructed.

"Fine."

We began walking towards the door. I experienced four sets of eyes burning into the back of my head. I internally fidgeted uncomfortably. Then, to my surprise, Mal's emotions flooded back into my mind. Smugness, self-satisfaction, a sense of superiority. All of it. The block had crumbled.

_ "Wasn't that fun, Michael?"_ It inquired, its tone mocking.

_ "YOU." _Even in my mind, you could hear the ever-present disgust. "_YOU MERCILESS, MANIPULATIVE, EVIL-" _

_ "Flattery will get you nowhere." _It interrupted me. _"I will always be in control. Really, you might as well give up. There's not a thing you can do about it."_

Frustration welled up inside me, burning in my chest. I wanted to kick something, because deep, deep down, I knew Mal was right. I would never be able to beat the demon. It… it was fully possible that it would remain in control for the rest of my life. Had I really seen the last of my freedom? My hope was down to nothing as Mal's hand grasped the doorknob. It pulled open the door. The burst of hot, outside air hit me.

_ "So you finally get it. Face it, Mikey." _Mal bragged. _"You lo-"_

Its words were stopped short by a loud cracking noise. It ripped through the room, leaving my ears ringing. Before the sound had even finished, however, a bolt of pain rocketed through me. A truly blood-curdling shriek came from my mouth as I crumpled to the ground, face-first. Something wet covered my back. It dripped off of me, onto the ground, soaking the floor and my clothes as well. Weakly, I opened my eyes and lifted a hand.

Covering it, was blood.

Using the last remaining strength I had, I turned my head. My gaze landed on Officer O'Knally. My eyes widened. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. There was a look of ugly satisfaction on his face, but that wasn't what made me want to puke.

In his hand was a smoking pistol.

**A/N: Sorry that this took longer than expected. I was out of town for most of the week, with fourth of July and all. I'm glad, though, because it gave me time to write this. I'm quite pleased with the way it turned out. If you like it, drop me a review! Special thanks to firelifeblizzard, Blackdiamondbluerubysodapuppy, That one Mudkip, AwesomeAuthor13, justmeHG999, the-new-face-in-town, TotalCyborgPineappleIsland2, and Dark Anime for reviewing last chapter! **

**Now, to answer some questions that I was asked last chapter:**

**1. This story is actually canon, believe it or not. I have a plan for how it all ties in.**

**2. I may or may not put Duncan in the story. I haven't decided yet. Do you guys think I should?**

**One more question for you guys, just for future reference: Do you think I'm making Mal too evil or not evil enough? It's hard to find that balance sometimes. **

**My apologies for the long author's note! Thanks for reading! **


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